I'm like Tom Jones or Wayne Newton or whoever that singer is that people throw underwear at.

I'm totally getting underwear thrown at me...it's awesome. I'd like to say that it's because of my super sweet dance moves or my amazing and sensual singing voice...actually, I am going to say that. My moves are so sweet and my singing voice is so sexy awesome that the people over at Eden Fantasys are throwing underwear at me. I'm totally like Elvis Presley right now...except a queen, not a king...and also I'm a girl...and not dead...and I can't really move my pelvis like that either because last time I tried something popped and I couldn't get off of the couch for 2 days...but other than that, I'm totally like Elvis.

Anyway, the Eden Fantasys people asked me if I was interested in doing a review or a product giveaway so I went to their site and it was all sex toys and um...sex toys and stuff and I blushed super bright red and I imagined James' mom reading my blog where I'm all, "the super giant love machine with 3 adjustable speeds rocked my world!" and I got a little light headed and woozy and I was all "uh-uh, no way man, I am not going there!" except then I saw that they had sexy bras and soy candles and stuff so I asked if I could review something like that and then they threw underwear at me.

This is awesome for a few reasons: First, I'm getting married this summer and I need a sexy underwear stash. Second, James makes fun of my underwear all of the time. He says I'm like the granny panty queen. Third, the underwear that they sent me is super adorable:




(totally not my body)

I put it on and was running up and down the stairs, shaking my butt and shimmying and telling James to look at how cute I was...which he agreed and then reminded me that our windows were open and the whole neighborhood could see me dancing around the house in my underwear. But, you know...at least it was cute. Anyway, here's the thing about lingerie...most of it is really uncomfortable. I mean, maybe not for you but the stuff that I've bought before always has that g-string thing that feels like it's coated in sandpaper and razorblades. Then you have to pay 7 vagillion dollars to get the matching bra and then you put it all on and your boyfriend or husband is all, "yea-heh, sex-EE!" and you're all trying to act sexy except your butt hurts and now you're poor. So, you know, I kind of gave up on the sexy underwear thing...

But this underwear is like shorts! No razorblades or sandpaper and the whole outfit costs less than 40 bucks. Plus, they have other lingerie sets that have underwear with ruffles which I lovelovelove because they remind me of the 40's and 50's pin-up girls. The only thing that I had a problem with was the sizing. I'm kind of busty but the rest of me is like a twig in comparison so it was kind of hard to figure out what size to pick. The bras and panties come as a set so it's a little difficult when your own body isn't really a matching set. The bottoms fit perfectly but the bra ended up being a little bit too small...however, even being a little bit small didn't make it look bad. It's super cute and James is very happy to see me getting outside of my granny panty comfort zone.

P.S. If you want to know about the stuff that they carry that makes me blush, Petra over at the Wise Young Mommy can fill you in.




P.P.S. Sometimes when I'm dancing around in my underwear and trying to be all sexy like Shakira, I think about this video:

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Because nipples exist.

I constantly write notes to myself about things I could possibly write about here. Sometimes I find them and I know exactly what I was thinking at the time. Other times...not so much. For instance, this note: "running around in my granny panties, sniffing James' armpits, impressing his family."

Now, I do actually own granny panties. I do think they're some of the funniest looking things ever and as such, I do find it necessary to run around in my underwear on occasion. Actually, not really running around in my underwear so much as dancing...awesomely. Dancing in my granny panties, which are bagging around my butt and hiked up to my boobs, makes me really, really happy. So that part makes sense.

I also do sniff James' armpits...a lot. Ok, but seriously, before you go judging and pointing fingers and calling me a creep or whatever, hear me out. He wears that Axe deodorant...which I'll admit, as a body spray, has a tendency to make the wearer smell like a guido-douchebag. However, as a deodorant...it's good stuff. It smells heavenly and I can either sneak into the bathroom and huff his deodorant like some desperate deodorant junkie or I can bury my face in his armpit every once in a while before I fall asleep. As most people know, I just say no to drugs so the armpit wins.

What either one of these two things has to do with impressing James' family, I do not know. Actually, I'm pretty sure if I show up at the next family gathering wearing only one of my ill fitting bras and granny panties, with my head shoved into James' armpit...I'd guess that the family would be less than impressed. Although...

I just found out this week that several members of James' family are now reading my blog (Everybody wave to my future family - hi future family!) At first I was like, "Oh, cool! It's like we're all bonding with each other via the internet. Neat!" Then I remembered that they were reading MY blog...in all of it's pug nippled, teatime love bite, vomit plate, vagina purse glory. So, you know, the impressing them moment has probably pretty much passed anyway...

(When I mentioned my concerns to James about his family reading my blog, he got all profound and Yoda on me: "Nipples exist, Jessica. Whether they like it or not, nipples exist." And you know... he's right. Sometimes he makes really good points. Not usually, though.)


P.S. I would just like to clarify that I love James' family dearly and they have always welcomed me with open arms and never once judged me, pointed at me or called me names. However, they are also Greek which means that he has no less than one million and twenty-seven aunts, uncles and cousins. The odds are against me that all of them are going to accept the chick with pug nipples and a vagina purse...and at some point that person and I are going to be each other's secret santa. When that moment comes...well...Guess who's getting a vagina purse for Christmas?

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